English

From heav'n the King of Glory came,
To raise the fall'n to thrones above,
And through this ransom'd world proclaim
One law of liberty and love:
From sin, to set sin's captives free,
Captive he led captivity.

To death by awful Justice doom'd,
He found our whole apostate race;
Himself our flesh and blood assum'd,
That he might suffer in our place;
From death, to set death's pris'ners free,
Captive he led captivity.

For us the pains of hell he bore,
Wrung to the dregs the cup of wrath,

Lord! give the word; say, — " Be thou free, "
Proclaim thine own accepted year!
The captive yearns for liberty;
Our earnest pray'r, O Savior! hear.

Lord of all pow'r! unloose his chain;
Most merciful! for mercy's sake,
The broken heart bind thou again,
The bruised reed, Oh! spare to break.

We can but weep, — thou, Lord! canst aid;
We can but pray, — thou, Lord! canst save;
Deliv'rance, now so long delay'd,
We for our fathers' victims crave.

O visit not on us, good Lord!

Pure soul, who in God's high-walled Paradise
Dost walk in all the whiteness of new birth,
And hear'st the angels' shrill antiphonies,
Which are to heaven what time is to the earth,
Give ear to one to whom in days of old
Thou gavest tears for sorrow, smiles for mirth,
And all the passion one poor heart could hold!

Behold, O Love! to-day how hushed and still
My heart is, and my lips and hands are calm;
When last I strove to win you to my will,
The angels drowned my pleading in a psalm;

The Christmas bagpipes I heard mid sleep,
I heard the sound of old lullabies.
The stars are out in the azure deep,
the lantern's glow in the cabins lies.

From the dark mountains they have come here,
the Christmas bagpipes, without a sound,
and have awaked, with their piping clear,
all the good people in slumber drowned.

Each one has risen from his poor bed;
under the rafter he makes a light;
those lamps are fragrant of low words said,
of cautious footsteps, of yawns at night.

Humbly before thy throne, good Lord!
While for ourselves we plead,
Let us, according to thy word,
For others intercede.

Hast thou not witness'd, from on high,
A sore afflicted race?
Hast thou not heard their piercing cry,
And wilt thou hide thy face?

And wilt thou turn thine ear away?
How long, O Lord! how long,
Shall weakness lie to pow'r a prey,
And right be rul'd by wrong?

Is there no mercy for the slave?
None, with the tyrant none!—
Then stretch thine own right hand to save;

Liberty-imparting Spirit!
Breathe on Afric's fetter'd race;
That, through thee, they may inherit
This divinest gift of grace.

Thou canst break their bonds asunder,
Thou canst cast their yoke away;
Speak! and in a voice of thunder,
Which th' oppressor must obey.

Tell the man, who dares to barter
In his brother's flesh and blood,
He has broke the noble charter
Of our common brotherhood;

And for this will stand indicted
At the judgment-seat on high,
There to be by God requited

THE SCHOLAR'S RELAPSE .

By the side of a grove, at the foot of a hill,
Where whisper'd the beech, and where murmur'd the rill,
I vow'd to the Muses my time and my care,
Since neither could win me the smiles of my fair.

Free I ranged like the birds, like the birds free I sung,
And Delia's loved name scarce escaped from my tongue;
But if once a smooth accent delighted my ear,
I should wish, unawares, that my Delia might hear.

With fairest ideas my bosom I stored.

Holy Father, God of Love!
Send thy Spirit from above;
Help us all thy name to sing,
God of mercy, Heav'nly King!

For the burden'd slave would we
Ask the gifts of liberty;
For the weary and oppress'd,
We would ask thy peace and rest.

In thy gracious love arise,
See his burdens, hear his cries;
Rend his fetters, set him free,
Slave no longer let him be.

Then his thankful voice shall raise
Songs to thee of grateful praise;
Grace, free grace, shall be his theme,

Lord! deliver; thou canst save;
Save from evil, Mighty God!
Hear — oh! hear the kneeling slave,
Break — oh! break th' oppressor's rod.

May the captive's pleading fill
All the earth, and all the sky;
Ev'ry other voice be still,
While he pleads with God on high.

He, whose ear is ev'ry where,
Who doth silent sorrow see,
Will regard the captive's pray'r,
Will from bondage set him free.

From the tyranny within,
Save thy children, Lord! we pray;
Chains of iron, chains of sin,

Tis midday. Darkness looms.
Hushed is the cricket's note
in the stubble, that moans.

In the air the thunder booms,
then seems a tired, remote,
low rumbling of stones.

Swallows with wide wings fleet
are echoing their refrain
'neath the loggia's high eaves.

Now, after breathless heat,
murmurs the sound of rain
in the poplar's small leaves.

The thunder rends the air
black, as though night were here.
Every window-blind swings.

They bolt the windows. There